


Asking for It

by nybras



Category: Best Friends Forever (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nybras/pseuds/nybras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Lindbeck is all about antagonistically challenging people's comfort zones. Against the advice from his concerned step-brother, Louis pushes Vincent's to its limit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asking for It

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this vincent and louis fic a long time ago, but i still like it. i just really enjoy vincent and louis's dynamic...
> 
> and for fair warning, this also might contain some light john -> louis, depending on how you interpret it. enjoy!

\----

"You probably shouldn’t push him so much."

Louis doesn’t bother looking away from the mirror as he finishes up his pompadour, carefully smoothing the drying hair spray. John’s in the bathroom, leaning against the wall.

"I wasn’t aware you were so concerned for his feelings," Louis says blithely, his expression mild and unconcerned. He can feel that John’s scowling at the back of his skull, though. The tension in the air tells him. "Do you want him instead?"

"No, asshole," John responds with exasperation. "Don’t even try that."

"No, really, I thought you didn’t like him," Louis goes on, and rolls his eyes, finally turning away from the mirror to face John. It doesn’t even bother John that Louis still has not put on pants, even though he’s gone and done his hair and eyebrows.

"I don’t like… not like him." John looks uncomfortable, and he looks away, his hand on the back of his neck. Louis suspiciously lowers an eyebrow and raises the other.

"Why are you so concerned with my romantic life, anyway?"

"Because you make bad decisions, dude. Like—constantly." John’s confidence returns, but Louis still feels that—while valid—the point is incomplete. Louis narrows his eyes a little, trying to figure out exactly how to pin him. He smiles, eventually, and it’s a slow and even spread, his expression perfectly contrived, walling something else away. John recognizes it and scowls, because it’s confirmation that he isn’t getting through to Louis. They aren’t getting through to each other, in fact.

In part, John knows it’s his own fault. He’s not totally honest. Not now, not often.

"We’re highschoolers. I don’t see what’s the point in kidding ourselves, trying to do the right thing and be responsible and whatever. We’re young! Besides, I don’t see how this is going to turn out unfavorably for me. Why are you so worried about /Vincent/?" Louis asks, turning on his dainty heel to look at himself some more. He’s done, but vain, and annoying. He puts his palms on the sink and leans forward with a big, smug smile for himself.

"I’m not."

Louis blinks, then looks over his shoulder, still leaning on the sink. “You’re not?”

"No. Like I could give a fuck about that, okay? I’m worried about you."

"Oooh. Well, aren’t you always? You’re going to worry yourself into an early heart attack if you carry on like that," Louis dismisses, turning towards the mirror again as he needlessly fusses his pompadour. "Just like your dad."

"Louis! God." John balls his fists angrily when he hears Louis laugh, seeming self satisfied with the very personal jab. He tries to calm down, but he’s talking through his teeth. "I’m just /saying/, you’re good at getting under people’s skins. And you aren’t like me, Louis—you’re like—" He gesticulates with frustration, his eyes widening. "—a stick! You’re smaller than some /girls/ I know!"

"Oh my god, you’re exaggerating," Louis gasps, turning to frown at John.

"No, I’m not, and besides, that’s not what you should even be worried out. Like, what I mean is if you piss Vincent off, he’s going to beat the shit out of you."

"Oh, I don’t think so," Louis says carefully, thinking about it. "He only beat you up because you were giving Teddy so much grief for no good reason, right?"

John falls silent, but his body language remains tense despite his effort to relax his posture. His scowl deepens, and the guilt he feels twist in his gut makes the expression age him several years. It’s a guiltiness he’s never expressed, and he’s not ready to admit he deserved it, even if he never says otherwise.

"And besides, that was ages ago," Louis adds.

"Look, if he can beat /me/ up, you’re fucked. What if he does?"

"Maybe I’ll invite it," Louis laughs, and John loses his patience. He approaches Louis and turns him around aggressively, and Louis’s eyes widen with surprise.

"Stop fucking around. What’s your problem, Louis?" John is raising his voice, getting up in Louis’s face as he shakes him by the arm. "Why do you do this shit?! I’m serious—like the guys you pick up aren’t bad enough, dude! Why do have to make yourself a target? Are you fucking retarded?"

"John!" Louis yells, but his tone sounds just as chastising. He shakes John’s hand off him with an aggravated yank. "What makes you think I can’t take care of myself?"

"It’s like you said, dude. You’re a highschooler. A tiny, gay one. Like—where do you even get the fucking balls?"

"Just because I’m not ‘like you’ doesn’t mean I’m not strong, John."

That wasn’t what John meant, but he doesn’t even know if it’s worth pointing out. He wonders if Louis is aware of it anyway. Maybe it’s pointless to say.

They stare at eachother in a tense stalemate—either of them could go on, they both really could, but they both realize in that moment that neither of them are going to make eachother see where they’re coming from.

"Whatever."

—

Vincent never comes to Louis and John’s parties, but he has tonight. He usually has other things planned, and those other things usually involve Teddy. Or so Louis suspects. He doesn’t actually know, whatever. But Thursday can’t be the only day they hang out.

But Teddy’s found other things to occupy him—the way Vincent has done the same, to cope and to hide, and now Teddy’s adapting it, because they’re both playing the most idiotic, destructive game of unconventional gay chicken that Louis has ever seen. It’s like reverse gay chicken.

It’s like, “How straight can you pretend to be before one of you snaps?”

All things considered, the evening was going pretty well. Besides Vincent largely moping as he normally does, but even he had some bright moments. And lots of alcohol. Even a little weed, which made Louis so proud. And so smug, especially since he was able to remove Vincent from the crowd to do so.

But having a moment alone with Vincent was what Louis a pair of ringing ears and a sore jaw. Amazed, he holds his chin, pinky touching his split lip (it stings) where it’s warm with blood, and he looks up at Vincent in surprise from the floor. Vincent responded to Louis’s question with a punch in the face, unthinkingly acting, because Louis makes getting under people’s skin a horrible art.

Vincent seems to get a hold of himself, blinks, and looks guilty. Normally he’d hold onto his resolve with this kind of thing, but it seems that Louis’s bewildered expression disarmed him. “Shit—” he starts, getting ready to offer his hand.

"Is that a symptom of you snapping?" Louis goes on, and he laughs, and there’s blood between his teeth, Vincent can see it. His anger returns in a flash and he grits his teeth, grabbing Louis by the collar and punching him across the face again. Louis wails in surprise. It hurts, it really actually does truly hurt because Vincent’s got really great arms, and he’s seeing stars.

But it’s not Louis’s first rodeo, and so he clenches his teeth and grabs Vincent by the cheekbones—which visibly alarms Vincent for reasons other than the obvious, and Louis raises his head to smash his forehead against Vincent’s.

"Augh!" Vincent recoils for a second to grab his head, and he recollects Louis’s collar to shake him down, shoving his shoulders against the ground so he’s fully down. Louis hits his head and hisses through his teeth, wincing, but recovers quickly to struggle Vincent’s hands off his shoulders, giving him a good stomp in the gut or two. The wind is steadily knocked out of him, but Vincent remains tenacious, taking Louis’s leg and twisting it hard—Louis yells in surprise at the most painful execution yet, and to relent the agony, he twists with his leg, ending up on his belly.

Vincent pins him that way, grabbing Louis’s arms and pinning them behind his back with one hand. They’re both breathing a little heavily, adrenaline and alcohol coursing through them, and Louis laughs, resting his cheek against the pavement.

"I have a boner."

"I bet you do," Vincent growls, not particularly caring if he’s joking or not, twisting Louis’s arms upwards in a way that makes Louis’s shoulders seer with pain. He hisses below Vincent, then groans with pain. Vincent feels an uncomfortable twinge in his pants at the sound, so bites his lip and ignores it. He does it again, and Louis cries out.

"Fuck!"

"You smug piece of shit," Vincent mumbles, lowering his head, his face flush as the world around him spins. He’s not totally sure what’s happening anymore. He wonders if Louis really does have a boner, or if he’s just trying to piss Vincent off. "You need to learn to mind your own business."

"I’m shaking in my boots," Louis says breathlessly, struggling to find words, but he’s still laughing. He’s so god damned antagonistic, and Vincent feels his blood boil as his adrenaline spikes with anger.

"Shut up."

"You know," Louis slurs. "I think we have good chemistry."

"Shut /up/, dude. I’m not gay."

"Oh, yes you are," Louis says in a voice so low it’s almost a growl, and he turns his head to look at Vincent as best he can with his busted smile. "There’s no misunderstanding the way you look at Te—"

Before Louis can finish, Vincent’s other hand shoves his head into the concrete. He almost loses his balance and recovers his hold on Louis, maintaining it.

"Oh, Vincent, I love your hands on me like this," he sighs once he recovers properly, and Vincent snarls in silence as he listens to Louis go on. "Even like this—maybe even especially like this, it’s so hot. I’d let you beat the shit out of me anytime."

"Yeah?" Vincent asks vacantly, and he’s not sure why, but he’s really hard in his pants at this point. "Like that’s all you want from me."

"Oh, of course not. I’d take a dicking anytime over /this/."

"I’m sure you would," Vincent mumbles, and he absentmindedly gives his dick a little squeeze through his pants, leaning all his weight into the hand that’s restraining Louis’s arms. "Fucking slut."

"I think /most/ people prefer sex to being battered, Vincent," Louis laughs. "But it is true that I’m a slut, definitely. I’m in high demand, too."

"Bullshit," Vincent says reflexively.

"I am," Louis explains. "But no matter how many dudes I fuck, I’m still thinking of you pretty consistently when someone’s nailing me."

"No way…" Vincent feels even dizzier with this information, and the way he says it is less with surprised disbelief and more with defeat.

"I’ve wanted you to fuck me for such a long time, Vincent. Don’t you know how much I suffer?"

"For dick?" Vincent asks with a contemptuous sneer, which Louis returns.

"For /your/ dick, Vincent. That’s not just any dick."

"So what, you gotta crush on me…?"

"I don’t know. What if I did?"

Vincent pauses, then blinks, feeling himself become mercifully extracted from the situation. “Well, I dunno, that’d be kinda funny, since I’m beating you up. Especially if you think I’m…”

"Hm?"

Vincent’s expression becomes distant, and his eyes fall on Louis. “…like, in love with Teddy, or whatever…” he finishes without confidence.

"Oh, no, no no no, /that/ doesn’t matter," Louis laughs, and with his usual lack of consideration for consequences, Louis rolls his ass upwards, pleased to find that it brushes Vincent’s crotch. Or near enough, anyway. "I’d say you agree."

Vincent’s not sure if he should yell with surprise and give Louis another punch to the head. He feels like he should, like that’s what he’d normally do, what he’s programmed himself to do, and as he considers this, he finds that he does nothing at all.

His hand brushes Louis’s hip a moment later, and saving his words for fear of throwing this off track, Louis responds to the touch by lifting his ass again. Vincent bites his lip and reels his pelvis forward in a brush against it, slowly releasing Louis’s arms. Louis’s mouth parts in surprise, having not expected so much out of this, and wonders how far he can take this. One of his newly freed hands slide under the small square of his hips to undo his own pants, and he presses back, inviting Vincent forward once again.

Vincent hangs his head and gives into the feeling of the intoxicants, of his anger, his adrenaline, and lets go of his pretenses and everything else. Just for a second. Just for one fucking second, he’ll let go of all that other shit that’s so complicated and difficult. Let go of Teddy, because he doesn’t love him.

He comes forward to rest more closely against Louis, who uses his other arm to balance himself somewhat, and Vincent begins to rut against him. Louis moans quietly, and Vincent wrenches a handful of Louis’s hair in response. He gasps in surprise, and fumbles with his underwear, desperate to touch his dick. He hears Vincent grunt near his ear as he grinds against his ass.

"Vincent," Louis sighs blissfully, and from the practiced, breathy lilt of his voice, you’d never know that Louis was getting the shit hit out of him minutes ago. It invigorates Vincent, and he finds that just humping Louis’s ass is falling short of what he wants. If he’s letting go, he wants to take more than that.

"I wanna fuck you," Vincent says quietly, tensely, and Louis is so thrilled to hear it he has to stop touching his dick a second before he just prematurely cums and embarrasses himself or something.

"/Do/ you?" Louis asks, then laughs a little, biting his bloody lip as he turns to look at Vincent.

"…Yeah," Vincent confirms, ignoring how terrible this all feels. He feels guilty, but why? Who does he owe his perseverance? His body?

He doesn’t let himself answer, and he bites Louis’s earlobe softly, pulling it.

"I’ve …I’ve thought about it before," Vincent admits in a bashful mumble. "A couple times…"

Louis closes his eyes tightly and moans a little, blindsided by the confession, which does well to bloat his ego. “Godddd, Vincent…”

Vincent reaches to touch Louis’s cock. Louis bites his lip and smiles unevenly, rocking his hips so that he fucks Vincent’s hand a little, simultaneously rubbing on him. Vincent lets out a breathy shudder.

"So—can I?"

"Mmm, if you ask me nicely, you can."

Vincent bites his lip and withdraws a little. “Fuck that.”

"Okay, okay, fine," Louis concedes giddily. "I have condoms in my wallet. Hop to."

"Alright…" Vincent feels for the wallet, letting go of Louis’s dick. Deciding the front pockets are empty, he investigates the back, and takes the opportunity to feel up Louis’s ass. Louis makes a muffled, needy sound and closes his eyes, tucking his face away as he looks very pleased with himself while Vincent gropes his ass. He finds and extracts the wallet clumsily, dropping the open wallet beside Louis after he finds the condoms, and he leans back.

Louis hears Vincent unzip his pants and could swear his heart stops.

"Uh… wait… don’t you need lube though, dude?"

"Oh, so you’re suddenly concerned for my physical well being, are you?" Louis twists to look over his back, his chin in his hand as he leans on his elbow. Vincent turns red.

"Well like—this is different, cuz. We’re fucking now."

"So eloquent…" Louis sighs dreamily, batting his eyelashes.

"Shut up. I’m not like, here to impress you with how articulate I am, alright," Vincent huffs, rolling the condom down his hard cock. Louis watches carefully, and hungrily.

"Alright," Louis agrees absentmindedly, humoring Vincent. "Anyway, spit should be fine." Louis goes back to how he was before to lessen the strain on his back, and Vincent blinks stupidly as he holds his dick once it’s fully dressed.

"—Really? Just spit?"

"The condoms are lubricated."

"Still, though…"

"Oh, come on. Don’t underestimate my slutty prowess."

Vincent blinks uncertainly, then begins to yank down Louis’s pants and underwear. He feels a little anxious seeing it all like that, but excited, too—he grips his dick a little harder the more of Louis is exposed, and lets go of Louis’s jeans to smooth his palm against the bare skin. Louis makes a content sound in his throat, pulling his pants down so that Vincent can see his dick, too. Vincent reaches for it, and strokes it, pulling it backwards so it faces him. Louis sighs and whines brattishly for Vincent to fuck him.

Vincent spits on his fingers, then begins to probe Louis’s ass a little. Louis doesn’t express any discomfort, and he idly strokes his dick to keep himself attentive through the prep.

"Are you clean…? Like, uh, I know we’re using a condom, but I mean like—your butt—" Louis rolls his eyes.

"Of course I am! Oh my god, It’s a party. I knew /someone’d/ be fucking me tonight. Stop ruining the romance."

"Okay! Okay, okay…"

Vincent presses himself slowly against Louis after he applies a little more spit, and Louis adjusts his posture in a precise manner to help Vincent in. Vincent feels like he’s pressing against Louis forever until he’s suddenly slipped half way in, and Vincent gasps as Louis moans lowly. He pushes his ass against Vincent, taking more, and Vincent clutches Louis’s hip, trying to recollect himself before he continues.

Once acclimated, Louis moves against Vincent with enthusiastic fluidity, enjoying himself noisily. He sighs lewd praises for Vincent’s dick and his performance, and Vincent finds he’s having a hard time keeping it together the more he fucks Louis. Not only because of the mounting pleasure, but also because of Louis’s fervor. But maybe the sooner he cums the better, because he knows this is a bad idea, and also they’re outside—someone from the party could find them, or someone could complain or something.

Not that Vincent’s really thinking about all that as he leans back, holding onto Louis’s hips as he pulls Louis against him with every thrust, getting as deep as he can. They carry on like that, and it’s not too much longer before Louis is making sounds that sound like loud sobs of pleasure, begging for Vincent to fuck him faster, his posture all weak and torn down with his shoulders and face against the ground as he cums, the stringy, cloudy threads of semen sticking to Louis’s hand and then to the ground. Vincent presses his forehead against Louis’s back, fucking him hard and fast through Louis’s orgasm. Louis’s appreciation is vulgar and hoarse, and in the form of so many dirty words.

Vincent continues fucking Louis even after he’s done, though somewhat more aggressively, having been spurred on by his orgasm, and Louis moans softly, his bruised face now resting on one of his arms, pants still sloppily around his thighs as he continues to take Vincent’s dick. It’s still stimulating, but he’s blessedly spent. Vincent cums not too much longer after Louis’s orgasm, and he gasps, pressing his forehead against Louis’s shoulderblade. His hands spasm and clutch handfuls of fabric, some of it being Louis’s pants, some of it being his shirt. His thrusts become deep and slow, his mouth hanging open in suspended ecstasy. He lets a long, slow breath out from his mouth as he comes to the end of it, and it quakes.

Once he finishes, the intense bliss and excitement is all fizzled out. He slowly pulls himself up, and Louis makes an uncomfortable little grunt when Vincent’s dick slips out. Vincent pulls the used condom off his dick, tossing it somewhere, and Louis sighs with contentment.

"That was so good," Louis says breathlessly. "You’re amazing…"

"I can’t believe you let me fuck you after I beat you up." As the words come out of Vincent’s mouth, he finds they carry a troubling sobriety to them. "…I’m sorry."

Louis rolls onto his back and laughs, pulling up his pants. Vincent gazes at the patch of soft, downy hair above the root of Louis’s cock, and sees how his dick is still all slick from his orgasm. It’s regrettably attractive, but put away as Louis tucks himself back into his underwear and closes his designer belt. Vincent packs up as well, feeling weirdly self conscious now that the sex was over.

Louis’s hair is shaken out of its meticulous style, which isn’t something Vincent hasn’t seen before. But he likes that he was the one to rattle that pompous visage himself, even if he feels bad for roughing Louis up in retrospect. But honestly, Louis looks good. On his knees, Vincent offers Louis his hand, and Louis allows himself to be pulled into a seating position.

"Give me a kiss, and I’ll forgive you."

Vincent makes a bashful, evasive glance at the ground, and Louis comes in to take it himself. It’s surprisingly soft, but Vincent can register the desire beneath it. He closes his eyes, and his thumb brushes along Louis’s cheekbone, finding that he rather likes it the less he thinks about it. They continue for another minute or so, and Louis separates, ending their kiss with an affectionate little peck.

"I still kinda feel like a dick."

"I was the one being a dick. I’m sure you’ve wanted to get that aggression out of your system for a little while, huh?" Louis’s expression is sinister, wearing the disguise of care as he straightens out Vincent a little, despite the fact that he himself is a total mess.

"…Yeah," Vincent admits, his ears burning. To both the face punching and the butt fucking, quite honestly. "But like—I can’t believe I just fucked you. You really can’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t—I don’t know what came over me."

Louis’s expression is deadpan and unamused, as if he’d been punked out of some fabulous prize. “Are you kidding? Vincent, you’re gay. That’s what came over you. You just had sex with a man and you had a damn good time doing it!”

"I know!" Vincent urges in a hiss, and he puts a hand over Louis’s mouth. Louis raises his eyebrows expectantly, folding his arms. "Not so loudly…"

Louis takes the tip of Vincent’s thumb between his teeth, tilting his head and gliding his tongue against it. Vincent jumps and takes his hand back, holding it as if it’s been burned.

"Loud is all I know, sweetheart."

—

"Dude, what the fuck HAPPENED to you?" John holds Louis’s chin and tilts his head, inspecting his split lip the following morning.

"Vincent beat me up," Louis says proudly, batting his eyelashes. His face gets touched with color as his smile grows, and John lets go of Louis.

"What are you blushing for, you stupid horny schoolgirl?! I’m gonna fucking kick his ass," John growls to himself, mussing up his fluffy hair, and Louis laughs.

"Wow, as much as I have to say I love the idea of boys fighting over me—" Louis pretends he doesn’t see John’s scalding glare, "—I was being a shithead, so I kind of asked for it."

"…Well, probably, but that doesn’t make it okay. You have bruises, like—everywhere." John inspects Louis’s arm, and sees his elbows are scraped. "He really fucked you up."

"Oh yeah, he /destroyed me/."

"…/Why/ do you seem so happy about that?!"

Louis bites the side of his finger a little, his expression more devious than coy as he chuckles, his demeanor flirtatious and giddy. “Oh, we made up.”

"…Dude…" John stares at Louis unsurely, and Louis fans himself, mocking vapors. "Did you guys—like—do something—?"

Louis holds the side of his face, over a bruise, and his smile darkens somewhat as he chuckles, his eyes hard and staring off somewhere to the side.

"…No, not much."


End file.
